


Marked

by Banana_daiquiri



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Humor, explicit - Freeform, shag or die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 00:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4159287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banana_daiquiri/pseuds/Banana_daiquiri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Rose go on vacation, but since trouble finds them everywhere, they are captured and made to do something that may prove to be a challenge for the Doctor....</p><p>--So, this story is marked as non-con due to the NATURE OF THE TROPE.  It isn't in any way violent, but if this is a trigger for you, please do not read it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rose knew that there was really no such thing as a vacation with the Doctor.

Sure, they were on Kuria and the sand was blue...the sun was out...the golden water lapped gently at their ankles, and he was playful and light and as aggravatingly flirtatious as he always was, warmth sparkling deep down in his chocolate eyes even as he held himself apart from her. And she was happy: happy to see it, happy just to be with him, happy to explore alien worlds and see his delight when he saw her delighted.

But nothing was ever as peaceful as it first seemed. Not on any planet--especially when one didn't know all the rules, all the customs. Or--as in the Doctor's case--when one was so arrogant as to think they'd never get caught up in those things, and so informing one's companion never crossed one's mind.

And he had the nerve to call _her_ jeopardy-friendly. Ha!

And so here they were.

***

_EARLIER...._

Rose felt something that felt like a small bean bag hit her in the side. She turned to see a clump of blue sand had burst across her pale yellow blouse. "Hey! Doctor!"

He was laughing. "Sorry!"

She rolled her eyes at him, but she was smiling.

"But I'm not, though," he said, wrinkling his nose as he sauntered along behind her. "I'm not really sorry."

She was fast; she dipped down and scooped up some sand in each hand, launching two globs back at him one after the other, hitting him first in the stomach and then in the head, mussing his hair.

"Oi! Oooh, Rose!" This was said with a note of pain as he stopped to rub his right eye. He hissed.

Rose immediately hurried to him, guilt-stricken. "Oh, Doctor! Oh, I'm sorry, did I get you in the eye? Here, let me see!" She turned his chin so he faced her, getting ready to examine him. He reluctantly moved his hand to let her look.

"I don't see anything...."

He winked at her and just smiled a self-satisfied smile, his clear (and clearly unaffected) eyes glimmering.

Rose shoved his chest roughly in disgust. She turned and stalked away through the sand. "Cheater."

He ducked his head, at least having the decency to hide the victorious look on his face. He paced along behind her, completely dressed and completely out of place on this beach where all the other humanoids (who were slightly orange due to all the beta carotene they consumed) were dressed in proper swimwear, much of which was quite revealing. 

Rose's gaze swept the length of the beach, and she sighed wistfully. She wished she had some skimpy swimwear on. See if he laughed _then._

But he probably would. He didn't notice take note of those things the way an ordinary bloke would. Either that, or he had enormous self-control. Well, he _did_ have enormous self-control...she just couldn't be sure if it extended in that direction. She chewed her lip and tried to focus on the beauty and wonder of what surrounded her, rather than the beauty and wonder of the alien walking behind her and how very much she would like to make him _lose_ all of his carefully constructed control. It never did her any good to fixate on him: all it amounted to was a surreal frustration she felt awkward about relieving on the TARDIS. Not to say that she didn't...it was just...infrequent and with a great sense of shame and embarrassment when she did. She was afraid his ship would know, or that he would know, somehow. It seemed like he knew everything, like he could see right through her. He often handed her things right before she asked for them and ordered for her at restaurants before she could even open her mouth. Therefore, it seemed completely within reason to think that he might...sense a shift in her hormones or something, for all she knew. She didn't _want_ to know if he could do that. It wasn't that she thought he'd spy on her, but for all she knew he thought of humans the same way he thought of other aliens they ran across: as beings to be observed. Maybe he'd find her tendency to seek her own relief very natural and clinical. Could probably spout statistics on it and give examples of other barbaric cultures who did the same. 

Considering all that made her feel like an insect. She also never, never wanted to find out if her musings were correct.

It had been a very long time for her since she'd felt any real affection. She hadn't been touched in an intimate way by another person since long before she came on board. The only one who ever touched her was the Doctor--holding her hand, squeezing her shoulder with his arm around her, even skating his hand over the curve of her waist as he moved around her at the console. Minor, innocuous things, but they set her on fire anyway. She'd have to be dead from the waist down not to need some release. Didn't _he_ ever...? Uuuugggghhhh...so not boarding that train of thought. Certainly not with him behind her.

Maybe later. In her en suite on the TARDIS.

The Doctor took a long stride and popped up beside her, almost making her flinch. "You're quiet," he observed.

She smiled up at him almost shyly. He looked so good, his hair all tousled from mania and beach wind. "Just enjoying this. 'Sides, you're quiet too. Can't hear my own thoughts over you prattling on, normally."

He bumped her shoulder with his and grinned, knowing full well that she loved him running his gob. "Well, you've not seen much, yet," the Doctor said, looking around them. "There's so much to show you here."

"Yeah? Like what?" She always got so excited when he got this look on his face, like the whole universe was their oyster--which it was. Sometimes she almost forgot how amazing it all was...because everywhere she went with him began to feel natural, to feel like home. She did, after all, live in a flying blue box that could tumble through all of time and space. (And still not bring her any closer to the alien standing next to her....)

He linked his arm around hers and tucked his hand back into his pocket. She slid her hand up his arm and squeezed the inside of his elbow, unable to stop herself from momentarily imagining turning to him and snogging the everlasting fuck out of him. Boy, was she hormonal today.

She exhaled slowly. She needed to focus on what he was saying; not imagine a slow tour of his mouth. That certainly wasn't on his list of destinations for today. 

"Well, the food here is fantastic, for starters." He squinted as he thought. "They have these mushrooms that taste exactly like chocolate, but the texture is something between that of a cupcake and whipped mousse...well okay, maybe that doesn't sound particularly appetizing, but the tilfas, Rose, the tilfas!" He turned toward her, spastic and eager as always, gesturing with his free hand. "They're a native fruit, very small, smooth as polished glass in your mouth, 'til they melt. Then they taste like french toast. But with...with...I don't know, something I can't describe. _I_ can't describe it, Rose, that alone is something to be excited about! We'll go up into the city from here to this little place...I was there once about, oh, a hundred years ago now--fairly recently, it shouldn't have changed much--and every table is laid out like a painting, the food is so artfully displayed. And the colors! Oooh, brilliant! Really, you just have to try it for yourself."

Rose grinned wildly at how thrilled he was to describe new things to her, to introduce her to his favorite places. And the Doctor was nothing if not a foodie. Maybe to a strange degree. Come on, Doctor, fingers in a jar of jam? You don't find that the _least_ bit symbolic? ...Wait, was this his replacement for sex???

Rose bit her lip again, mentally kicking her arse out of the gutter. "Sounds delicious," she said, a little more warmly than she'd meant to.

The Doctor just raised an eyebrow and smiled at her, almost as if he knew something. She looked away quickly. No matter how he looked at her, it didn't mean what she wished it did. He probably figured she was just particularly hungry. She pretended to take in the ocean, which, granted, was a very nice and distracting view. The sun was maybe three hours from setting, and already there were delicate pastel colors skating across the horizon: lavender, pink, orange. 

"We'll go get something to eat shortly," he reassured her. 

"Hmm." She smiled, but didn't look at him.

...

The restaurant was everything he had promised and more. They had walked up to it along a street paved with rounded bricks of a golden stone that glittered softly under the harsh sun. Rose felt like she was walking the yellow brick road. The Doctor laughed when she expressed this thought, but then he broke suddenly into frantic skipping, dragging her along with him and chanting, "Lions and tigers and bears, oh myyy!"

Rose joined in, chanting and giggling. People hurried out of their way as though out of the path of a train, startled by the strange and unexpected ruckus. The people of this planet were peaceful and somewhat reserved, although--the Doctor assured her--quite warm when you got to know them a little. The pair of them were free to act like lunatics and miscreants--within reason. As per their usual mode.

They sat beside each other in the restaurant rather than on separate sides, as they always did, and ate their fill of the beautiful foods--delicacies shaped like flowers that bloomed slowly when touched, a dark, eggplant-colored rice with a flavor similar to licorice. The Doctor was as verbose as always, explaining each food: where it had come from, how it was prepared, who thought of it, and what she could expect to taste. For dessert he ordered ice cream, and it was the smoothest she'd ever had. The best part, though, was her first bite. 

"Rose," the Doctor said, looking at her with grave seriousness, "I have been waiting since the day I met you to do this."

"Um," Rose swallowed even though nothing was in her mouth, "what's that, Doctor?"

He held up a spoonful of ice cream in front of her. He moved it toward her lips and she shifted back a bit and tried to take the spoon from him, because surely he _wasn't_ going to feed her.

He was.

"Just open," he said, laughing, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "If I give you this spoon I'm never going to get it back once you've tried this. Roooose...if you don't open up, I will resort to painting your cheeks with this."

Rose didn't yet have her own dessert in front of her, so it was true that she didn't have her own spoon. But this was _his_ spoon. As in, his mouth had been on it. Sure, they'd eaten together hundreds of times, constantly nicking things from each others plates, and yet--it occurred to her--they'd never done anything like share silverware, or feed each other. She rolled her eyes at him, to hide her embarrassment, and opened her mouth.

He gently placed the spoon in, sliding it over her teeth, and tilted it. She closed her lips around the utensil, and he drew it out slowly. Her earlier musing that food might be the Doctor's stand-in for sex flashed through her mind. She really, really hoped she wasn't blushing. She did feel a bit hot.

He grinned from ear to ear. "Well?"

It was fantastic. Smooth, creamy, definitely not like Earth vanilla, but somewhat reminiscent of it in a way that was hard to pin down. The Doctor liked to say that all across the universe there were different variations on the theme of "that tastes like chicken"; cousins to flavors she'd be familiar with. With this ice cream there were about ten dimensions to what she was tasting, and she couldn't identify them all. Rose chose to focus on how strange it felt not to have a reference point for something, rather than on what he'd just done. She swallowed slowly and licked her lips, noting that his eyes moved briefly away from her face when she did this. "It's fantastic," she said. Well, okay, she might have moaned it a little.

"Knew you'd like it," he said, as pleased as if he'd invented it. He took another bite, then surreptitiously stuck his finger in the ice cream and swiped a dollop of it across the tip of her nose.

"Oi, I did what you asked!" She laughed and grabbed a napkin, but before she could wipe the ice cream off, he dove in and... _licked. Her. Nose._

Then sat back and grinned like a kid who had just done something his parents should be very proud of.

Rose stared at him, mouth agape, then quickly assessed the table. Ah ha. 

She made sure her face was blank as she said, "Doctor, can you stop larking about and maybe pass me some of...that? That right there. Whatever that is." She pointed at something that looked a bit like mashed potato, but was rainbow-colored, and only a little closer to him than it was to her. Still, being a gentleman, he went to grab it...and Rose made a dive and smacked his hand down into the dish so that he landed in it palm-first, making an enormous mess. He actually cried out in surprise, a sound so rare that the laws of physics seemed to have been broken.

"Rose. Tyler!" he said, sounding appalled. "You...." he held his hand out toward her, and looked around helplessly for a clean napkin. Not spotting one, he made as if to wipe it off on her. 

"No!" she squealed, dodging.

"Give me your napkin." He was reaching for her threateningly, moments away from paying her back, only failing because she had hold of his forearm and was warding him off. She was strong, too; all that running and climbing.

Rose hesitated briefly, then looked him in the face and licked him from his wrist to the tip of his index finger. She parroted his "so pleased with myself" grin right back at him.

Now it was his turn to go slack-jawed. "I--"

A bored voice came from behind them. "Napkin, Sir?"

They both turned to see their waiter's stony expression. He extended a cloth napkin to the Doctor, who took it a bit sheepishly. "Um, yes, certainly," the Doctor said, his mirth flattening.

The waiter lingered, assessing what was left on the table. "Are you nearly finished, Sir? Would you like your check?"

It was the nicest, quietest way they'd ever basically been kicked out of a restaurant.

...

As they exited, Rose's eye fell on something strange in the distance that she'd taken note of earlier. Something ominous-looking. "Doctor? What _is_ that?" She pointed at a high black structure in the distance. It towered over the smaller shops and buildings of the city surrounding them. It was as tall as a hundred-story skyscraper, and incalculably wide. She imagined that from above it must be visible as a great circle--a wall.

"Oh, uh." The Doctor sounded nervous. If she didn't know him as well as she did, Rose might have missed the tone...but she was completely attuned to any bullshit he tried to spout. "That's the inner city," he finished dismissively.

"Inner city?" 

"Pay no mind. We're not going there."

"Oh? Why not?" She feigned innocence.

They were walking along the street hand-in-hand, and he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, knowing that she knew he knew something, as he usually did.

"Ugh," Rose said, defeated. "This isn't just a vacation, is it? It never is."

"No no no, it is!" the Doctor insisted, hauling her closer to him, his eyebrows ascending his forehead and making his eyes wide and earnest. "I promise, it is. But that's why we're avoiding the inner city. We don't want to get mixed up in that."

Rose said nothing, but he read her expression. He stopped pulling her along.

"I'm sorry, Rose. You know very well that anywhere we go there's bound to be danger. There are places you don't want to visit on Earth, either, yeah?"

She nodded and consciously relaxed the set of her shoulders. "Yeah. 'S just, you and I have a way of getting mixed up in all that." She nodded her head toward the inner city.

"We do," he acquiesced. "But not this time."

***

_THE PRESENT_

Famous last words.

In their jail cell, the Doctor put his head in his hands and sighed heavily. He rubbed his face. He had planted himself on the dingy bed in the corner. Rose was leaning against the wall opposite, pointedly not looking at him, her arms folded across her chest.

"No, we're not goin' there, he says," she mumbled. "Not gettin' mixed up in it, not _this_ time."

He wiped his mouth with his hand and looked at her tiredly. "Rose."

She looked down at her shoes, jiggled her leg.

"This is serious, admittedly, but I'll find a way out of it. I always do."

She didn't raise her head, but looked up at him through her lashes. "Clever Doctor," she murmured softly.

"That's right." He smiled confidently and patted the bed, and she reluctantly boosted herself off the wall, paced over to him, and sat heavily. There was absolutely no bounce as she landed.

"So. What's the deal, then? Why are we here, and what are they plannin' to do to us?"

"Oh, bugger, I really don't like this part," the Doctor sighed.

"What part?"

"The part where I explain and you wonder why I'm such a dunce." 

"It gets worse than you leaving your sonic in your other trousers?"

"Perhaps."

"Doctor, how did you even manage to do that? You own, like, _two pairs_ of trousers. You forget your most important tool in the other pair? You're bad as a regular bloke with his wallet."

"Everybody has an off day," he mumbled defensively.

She just nodded, exasperated, and gazed out of the bars of their cell into the dark, empty cell across from them. It smelled moldy down here.

"This planet is divided, as you noticed. Outside the inner city, it's very peaceful, but it wasn't always that way. There was a dictatorship, a protest, a revolution, blah-diddy-blah and fast-forward through all the bloodshed and racial tension, and a wall was erected. A treaty was signed...the guards of the inner city aren't supposed to go outside of that wall to patrol. They can go off-world and no one can say anything about that, but they're supposed to leave the outer city alone. That was the deal."

"Why? What do they want?"

The Doctor hesitated.

"Doctor?"

"Females. They want females."

Rose began feeling a little sick. "For what?"

"Breeding. Creating stronger bloodlines. They take unclaimed females, ones with strong DNA. They use them, then kill them."

She swallowed, her throat dry. "'S what they'll do with me, then, yeah?"

He stared morosely at the floor.

"And you forgot your bloody sonic."

"Rose." He grabbed her hand and looked at her. "I'll take care of this."

"Oh yeah? How?" She studied him, but saw nothing but his wheels turning quickly in thought. 

Then it clicked. "What do you mean, 'unclaimed females?'"

"Exactly what it sounds like. Females without a mate."

"They respect that distinction?"

"No. It pertains to the purity of the bloodline. If she has a mate, she's considered spoiled."

Rose started laughing.

The Doctor stared at her. "What? What's funny about that?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Doctor. I'm not a virgin." In other circumstances, he couldn't have dragged this out of her with a herd of wild horses--or Daleks--but right now she found it too funny. "Seriously. I'm safe as houses."

He swallowed, eyes still fixed on her face, not looking comforted.

She frowned. "What?"

"You misunderstand me. In most other worlds, Rose, mating leaves a telepathic mark. One that any slightly telepathic being can sense. Humans don't have that. In the eyes of the Kurians, you _are_ as good as a virgin."

"Oh...you mean, if I'd ever...you know, with someone...say, Jack--"

The Doctor flinched, and shuddered slightly.

"--you would have known about that?"

He shifted a bit, long since having let go of her hand, and looked down at where he was scuffing the toe of his trainer against the concrete. She knew he'd never sit still for a conversation like this if he had a choice. The Doctor avoided all talk of sex unless he was elaborating on evolutionary wonders during one of his impressive, science-y babbles. 

"Yes," he muttered, so quickly and quietly she barely caught it.

"You need to think, Doctor. We have to get out of here."

"Already thinking, I assure you." He had leaned forward further and had planted his elbows on his knees, apparently unable to look at her again while doing said thinking. "Accomplished absconder, that's me. Captain of circumvention. Master of...."

"Messing up?"

"Touché, Rose Tyler."

She quirked her lips to one side, feeling a bit guilty. "'M sorry, Doctor. I know this isn't really your fault."

"They shouldn't have been in the outer city. We should've been fine." She could practically hear his brow furrowing.

"Well, you're not...hang on, Doctor--what did they need _you_ for? Why didn't they just take me?"

"Because I am a male in your company. I'll need to explain the nature of our relationship. We'll have an informal trial." He sat up, the light going on in his eyes. "That's it!" he cried a bit too loudly. He leaned back against the wall to fumble around in his trans-dimensional pockets, the tip of his tongue curling at the side of his lips as he rummaged. Momentarily he located what he was after, and, glowing with triumph, held his hand out for Rose to see. She looked from his palm to his face, surprised and puzzled. "You still have those?"

For just a moment he faltered, then plowed on in his Doctorish way. "Never know what will come in handy! Hence the need for trans-dimensional pockets. I keep everything! I'll just...have to make a spare sonic so there's one for each suit," he mumbled reluctantly, expression turning sheepish.

Three months earlier they'd landed on Ploosh and had chased a Torthian hemi-bull (or, rather, what was known as a Minotaur in Earth mythology; he was literally half bull, but only the upper half, so he was quite top-heavy and not much of a runner, though he was sneaky...what he lacked in coordination he made up for in stealth, the Doctor had told her, looking quite confused himself) into an ancient church. They temporarily lost sight of the hemi-bull--he had escaped into the labyrinthine, multi-level basement--and the Doctor and Rose had accidentally burst through a door into the ceremonial hall where, as it turned out, they were forbidden to enter unless their intention was marriage. The Doctor thought on his feet and rambled out a plausible story, and they had hastily tied the knot under threat of beheading. They had then immediately legged it into the labyrinth, trading Minotaur jokes. ("If you see a wooden cow, Rose, don't climb in," the Doctor soberly advised her, and was promptly pushed on his arse...but they'd had a good laugh. So much for a wedding day--they'd never so much as exchanged an awkward glance, and they'd been so caught up in their mission that Rose had never had any time to let their new legal status on Ploosh sink in.) 

And now the Doctor was holding out the rings they'd exchanged (which the church had provided them with, saving them from having to further explain for their lack of preparation, thank the gods for small favors). They were delicate gold bands, designed to look like branches. They were meant to symbolize the naturally transient condition of love before the afterlife.

Never more so than in their case, Rose couldn't help but think, and squashed the thought. No--she'd broken through parallel universes already in order to find him. It hadn't pushed them forward into a romantic relationship, but that didn't matter. Nothing had ever changed their friendship...and maybe that was better than having a romance. What they _did_ have was unbreakable. She did her best on a daily basis to remind herself of this, though it didn't stop her nightly musings. 

But...he'd kept their rings. Why?

He grabbed her arm hastily and pushed the ring unceremoniously onto the index finger of her left hand, which was where it was worn on Ploosh, and then slid his onto his right index finger. "There!"

"Will that stop them from taking me?"

"Of course! All fixed." He grinned at her, but he couldn't hide that split-second of uncertainty she'd seen flash deep down in his brown eyes. She decided to smile back and pretend she hadn't noticed. It wouldn't do them any good to sit here worrying and dwelling. If the Doctor could pretend to be cheery to keep her spirits up, the least she could do was let him. She'd already tortured him over something that wasn't his fault. He was right--every world was dangerous.

"Now we wait," the Doctor said, glancing outside their cell for any sight of their jailors. He scooted further back against the wall and held his arm out in invitation. She leaned against him and he put his arm around her, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. She took a moment to forget their surroundings and just enjoy his proximity, his smell--a sweet, cinnamony smell, with just a hint of ancient-library-book thrown in. The Doctor had once informed her that that smell (which he had no idea she associated with him, of course, just as he had no idea that she became instantly aroused whenever she opened a book that was more than fifteen years old) was the result of volatile organic compounds being released into the air, in particular the compound lignin, which was present in the cell walls of plants that were used in all wood-based paper.

Amazing what she could remember, when he was the one instructing her. She'd never done particularly well in school.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. He squeezed her shoulder lightly, absently. Rose drifted off.

***

She was awakened by the electronic door of their cell rattling loudly in its track. The Doctor shook her shoulder unnecessarily to rouse her as he leaned forward and slid off the bed to stand. He held out his hand and helped pull her up.

Three extremely tall figures in hooded crimson robes appeared. Their faces were all so smooth and innocuous that Rose couldn't tell their sex until they spoke. "Come with us," the one closest to them commanded. The voice was distinctly male.

Rose and the Doctor approached and were handcuffed, each escorted individually by one of the two other robed figures. The one who had spoken to them led the way through the jail, past cell after darkened cell (some occupied), and eventually down a long hallway. They were let into the room at the end, and stood blinking in sudden brightness.

They were in a grand chamber. The walls were gold; the drapes were gold as well, heavy and velvet, held open with giant braided cords. Outside they could see the marketplace teeming with people, and, beyond that, the black wall. This time it was the inside of the wall. It wasn't much of a view, but enough to tell that it was closer to dusk. Low white tables ran along each wall of the room, lined with white candles burning in fancy glass vases. At the head of the room, behind a polished white desk, sat their judge. The Doctor and Rose were ushered forward and roughly urged to kneel, which they did. They looked up, from their awkard angle, at the face before them. Candlelight bounced off every available surface, shone in the golden paint on the walls. It gave the illusion that they were surrounded by hundreds of points of light. If the circumstances weren't so dire, Rose might have thought it lovely.

The figure regarded them for a long moment, its golden eyes betraying nothing but silent assessment. "Well?" it eventually prompted, after it had taken its fill of examining them. Rose wished she had some telepathic ability; the Doctor likely knew what that look was all about.

The voice of their judge was decidedly feminine. Her unsettling gaze focused on the Doctor. "State your claim."

"This, your, um...."

"High Magister," came the male voice from behind them.

"Your High Magister...this is my wife, Rose."

The Magister's expression shifted, ever so slightly, into somthing like skepticism. It was difficult to say what the expression on that powdery face, void of eyebrows on the lower margins of its superciliary arches, was. 

_Superciliary arches,_ Rose thought numbly. _Yup. This is how I know I've been livin' with the Doctor._

"That can't be," the Magister said flatly. "You have not marked her."

"We're newlyweds," the Doctor said, holding out his hand for her to see, and nudging Rose to do the same. Rose obeyed silently, her stomach churning nervously. "Just got married on Ploosh. We came here for our honeymoon. Lovely planet, this...blue sand, golden waters, good food, ominous black walls and imminent threat of death. Well, I _say_ good food...I mean _great_ food. Best food several solar systems over...wow, that was a fine example of alliteration."

The Magister blinked.

The Doctor was finished patting his own back, so he continued. "Bet the food is just as good here in the inner city. Last meal? Hmm?" He looked exaggeratedly around the room, his mouth open in faux awe. " _Love_ your interior decorator. Well, their taste. I don't actually know them. This is very stately. Good taste on this planet as a whole. Well, I mean, that's an odd turn of phrase, taste...." 

Rose cleared her throat rudely from beside him.

The Doctor came back around to his point as the Magister eyed him. "Only reason I haven't marked her yet is because she's shy." He winked at Rose and nudged her again. "Aren't you, snooky-poo?"

Rose turned her head and stared at him, trying to tamp down the urge to either scowl or laugh. How did he expect her to stay serious if he was going to resort to pet names? She bit her lips and looked away from him swiftly, steeling herself enough that she was able to look up at the Magister demurely, exuding the air of a woman too bashful to answer such a personal question. 

The High Magister tapped her nails on her desk top, looking from one to the other over the course of a long, silent minute.

The Doctor shifted a bit on his knees. Rose understood; it was a terribly uncomfortable position to assume on a marble floor.

"Verify the jewellery," the Magister instructed one of the guards, who then stepped forward and took the Doctor's hand, yanking the ring off without finesse.

"Hey!" the Doctor called after the retreating figure of the guard as he exited, rubbing his abused hand, "I expect that back! My jeweller better tell me it's in sound shape!" When he received no response he turned forward again, folding his arms across his chest as though affronted. Frankly, it didn't look like much of an act. Rose had no doubt the Doctor's anger was real, though she doubted it had anything at all to do with the ring and more to do with the reason they were here. As much as he'd sworn otherwise, she genuinely doubted he'd ever intended on coming here without doing something about the enslavement that was taking place here in the inner city. Maybe he'd just intended on doing it without her knowledge; it wouldn't be the first time he'd tried to slip something like that past her, going out on missions while she slept. The Doctor didn't know how to stop working, nor did he want to. Helping where he could was built into his very makeup. He couldn't resist it, couldn't slow down to focus on much else. He saw nothing but timelines, every moment of every day, twisting in the wind before him.

And yet he still believed, at the end of the day, that he was a bad man. It hurt Rose's heart to think about. Also, he went out in secret and did these things without telling her because he knew she wanted rest, wanted a vacation sometimes. He let her lie around sleeping while he went off on his own to make the universe a better place.

Knowing this, thinking about this, always made Rose feel overcome with guilt and shame. But sometimes she genuinely needed a break. She wasn't _like_ the Doctor in that way; she could burn out. She could become exhausted both mentally and physically. The Doctor could, too, but it took so much more. She was no match for him. Maybe that was also why they'd never....

The minutes stretched out. Rose shifted periodically, cursing the hard floor. The Magister sat perfectly still, like a statue or a Snowy Owl.

 _And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting,_ still _is sitting on the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door,_ Rose thought obscurely, and tried to stifle a giggle. She failed, and had to turn it into a dramatic cough. She saw the corner of the Doctor's mouth quirk as he tried to contain a smile; he might not know exactly what she was thinking (though again she had to wonder), but he was on to her. 

The Magister blinked dryly, as unamused as Queen Victoria, but not bothered enough to speak.

Finally the guard returned and approached the Magister's desk, standing a respectful distance away. "That is a verified symbol of marriage, High Magister."

The Magister inclined her head toward the Doctor. "Give it back."

The guard tossed the ring to the Doctor, who caught it deftly, shooting the guard a dirty look in return as he slipped the ring back onto his finger.

The Magister tapped her nails again, and sighed as if bored. "You will make your mark. With audience. Then you may leave."

The Doctor's mouth fell open. 

"What?" Rose blurted, unable to stop herself. The Doctor twitched. "'Scuse me?"

The Magister finally looked cross.

"You expect us to shag right in front of you?" Rose was livid. "How'd you like to do it with an audience, huh?"

"Rose," the Doctor warned from the side of his mouth, gritting his teeth.

The Magister glowered. 

"Ya know, and furthermore, what is _wrong_ with you?" Rose chastised. "Other than being an overt perv."

"Overt perv," the Doctor murmured beside her, curling his tongue around the words thoughtfully, testing them out.

"You're a woman. How can you let other women be captured and mated like cattle?" Rose went on.

The Doctor cleared his throat and looked down at the floor.

The guard stepped forward menacingly. "The High Magister does not explain her policies to Offlings," he growled.

"Offlings?" Rose's brow furrowed.

"People not native to this planet," the Doctor muttered quickly, still not looking up. _"Roseshutup,"_ he whispered.

"No," Rose said loudly, turning her glare on him. "I don't accept that. I want an answer." She looked at the Magister expectantly.

The skin of the Magister's forehead shifted; if she'd had eyebrows, they probably would've been raised.

"It's for the good of my people. We're dying out. If we wish to survive, the only way is to introduce strong, compatible genetics to our line. We will blink out of existence if not, as though we never were."

"Well blink out then," Rose grumbled, thankfully too quietly for anyone but the Doctor to hear. Rose could see him in her peripheral vision; he was grinning privately to himself now, rocking back and forth slightly on his knees, handcuffed hands clasped in front of him.

Louder, Rose said, "Well why do you kill the women after you're done? Even if the rest of it was okay, which it's _not_ , why would you do that?"

"The breeders are there to contribute, not to become integrated," the Magister said impatiently. "And the process is a difficult one. The euthanasia is a mercy."

Rose felt her stomach lurch dangerously as she connected the dots between what was being said and what wasn't. Her chest grew tight. "Doctor," she gasped helplessly.

He reached out and laced his fingers through hers, regardless of the awkward handcuffs. 

"I don't have all day," the Magister barked. "What will it be?"

Rose's palms were sweating, her heart pounding in her ears. Next to her, the Doctor appeared to be biting the inside of his cheek. Neither of them spoke.

"You will mark her, or you will both die. For the last time, what is your choice?"

Choice. Rose found that word ill-suited for these circumstances. She tightened her grip on the Doctor's hand. She could feel him trembling slightly, and it scared her more than anything.

There were about ten more seconds of silence, and just as the Magister shifted slightly, drawing a breath to give an order, the Doctor interrupted.

"If she consents."

Rose felt a strange cold chill race over her skin, numbing her. 

The Magister relaxed back in her chair and regarded Rose with emotionless eyes. "Do you consent?"

Rose licked her lips and looked slowly over at the Doctor. His eyes were sad and apologetic. "Yes," she said quietly, reminded very much of their fake wedding day.

"Was that an affirmation?" the Magister prompted.

"Yes, yes it was," Rose said louder, looking up and taking a deep breath in a fruitless effort to loosen the tightness in her chest.

The Magister nodded and beckoned the guard close again. She spoke quietly with him and wrote something in a book on her desk. 

The Doctor and Rose were led back to their cell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Rose, unable to escape, have to face their most difficult challenge yet: physical intimacy.
> 
> This chapter involves our two beloved characters engaged in intimate acts while they are prisoners (shag or die); therefore it is implied that this is dubcon. Please be warned, and do not read further if this could be a trigger for you.

***

They were alone once more. Rose clung to the bars and stared out disconsolately as the Doctor paced. Nothing was said for a long time until, finally, he stopped wearing a trail in the floor and came up behind her. He didn't touch her, but she could feel him as strongly as if he had. "Rose?"

"Mmm," she hummed.

"I'm so sorry, Rose."

She pulled back from the bars just enough to stare at the ring on her hand. "Said it already, Doctor: this isn't your fault."

"We don't--we don't have to--I mean--"

"But we do."

He sighed, then growled loudly in frustration at their situation, at the fact that he couldn't find a way to fix it. He'd evaluated their cell, calculated their odds of escape and survival, to no avail. Rose leaned against the bars and turned so she could see him. He had one hand fisted in his hair and the other on his hip.

She released the bars and went to him. She touched his arm softly. "Doctor, stop."

He ran his hand back through his unruly hair, eyes flicking to hers and away again. He went to the bed and tossed himself onto it, legs splayed, staring at the ceiling. He laced his fingers together behind his head. "I can't do it, Rose."

Rose's brow wrinkled in confusion. What did he mean? Did he mean...did he mean he _physically_ couldn't? He was a Time Lord, and she really knew nothing about the way they functioned in...that aspect. If he couldn't, that did put some things in perspective. Or did he mean he couldn't as in he couldn't under these circumstances? Or...did he mean that he couldn't because he couldn't desire her even if their safety depended on it?

Rose knew she was being dramatic and silly, but all her insecurities rushed to the surface before she could think twice. "How'd you mean?" she asked softly, nervously, hating herself a little.

He laughed, one sharp, raw sound, abrupt. "Rose...are you serious?" His question was rough, but his voice was gentle. She had come to stand over him, and he searched her face. "I am not going to force myself on you no matter what." Again, his eyebrows went up, that steely determination appearing in his eyes. He shook his head. "No matter what," he reiterated.

Rose had, at some point, begun twisting the hem of her yellow shirt between her hands without even being aware of it. She looked down at her busy fingers, remembering how carefree they'd been earlier when they'd been throwing sand at each other. "What...what if we pretended we want to?" She couldn't speak above a whisper.

She could feel the Doctor's eyes on her, but she couldn't meet them. "Come here," he said quietly, and patted the bed next to him.

Still avoiding eye contact, she climbed onto the bed and turned to settle in his arms, unable to stop a tear from racing down her cheek.

He stroked her hair to comfort her, then rested his cheek on the top of her head. "What are you thinking about?"

Rose sniffled. "So many things," she said nasally. She was completely stuffed up, and her face felt hot from her unshed tears. "Just...when we were back there it occurred to me how selfish I am."

"What?" He sounded completely gobsmacked. "Why would you think that?"

Rose hated breaking down more than anything. She didn't do this, and she especially didn't do it in front of the Doctor. But there were so many things weighing on her mind, and she was now faced with the prospect of...well, to put it plainly, sex with him. And she didn't know how to hold anything back from him if that was going to happen.

She explained about how she knew that sometimes when they were supposedly "vacationing," he was off saving everyone. She told him how useless she felt, knowing that she couldn't keep up with him. "Also," she went on delicately, "I know you don't...you don't...engage in the sort of thing they're askin' us to. You talk about forcing yourself on me, but that's not...not what I'm worried about. I can handle it. I can handle anything when I'm with you. What I can't handle is forcing _my_ self on _you._ That's not what you're about, Doctor. It was bad enough with C-Cassandra." She sobbed, angrily choking the sound back even as it escaped. The guilt she'd never been able to express had finally come to the surface.

The Doctor hugged her tightly. "I never knew you felt that way," he rumbled soothingly against her hair. "Rose, please. I have never felt that way. That was Cassandra, not you."

"But maybe I could have stopped it if I'd tried harder," she said tightly.

He rubbed her arm briskly. "I should have explained," he said morosely.

"Explained what?" she sniffed.

"How a psychograft works. I never did because...well, I overlooked it, frankly. It never occurred to me because I never felt the way you're implying," he said reasonably. "I never imagined that you would think that."

She was unable to answer.

He continued rubbing her arm as he went on. "A psychograft compresses a person's entire consciousness. It can kill the host, and it's _extremely_ difficult to override; almost impossible. From _either_ side. You saw it, Rose--when Cassandra was in me, even I couldn't push her out. Frankly, what she did to you was far more of a violation than anything you're imagining you did to me."

She closed her eyes. "I'm still sorry."

His cheek twitched, and he placed one hand against the side of her face, using his thumb to swipe away her tears. "Then, if you need to hear it, you're forgiven. But just to be clear, I never thought that kiss was coming from you, not for one second. I wasn't certain what had happened right away, but I knew you weren't yourself. So to speak."

She nodded. "Yeah. You would know that. You know everything." A smile flickered, and gained strength. "You're a real know-it-all."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I am, aren't I?" He puffed up his chest a bit, but after a moment he turned businesslike again. "As for me doing what I do during our down time...let me worry about that. I--foolishly, obviously--thought I could do it without you knowing. But you're too smart, too perceptive." He hesitated, and she heard the grin in his voice. "My Rose. Clever human."

She felt warmth bloom inside her.

He went on. "I can't shut off, Rose. I can't sleep--well," she felt him tilt his head, "most of the time I can't. But I know you need to. Having an alarm clock thrown at my head really reinforced that." 

Rose chuckled despite herself. 

"I'm just doing what I did before you, or any other companion. There are some things I'd rather do alone. You're valuable to me, Rose--more valuable than I can say--but that's why I need you rested. For the things I can't do without you...by which I mean most things." He scooted down a bit to meet her eyes. His were full of concern.

He was such a charmer...the git.

But it worked; she felt more relaxed. Lighter than usual, in point of fact, after finally unburdening herself after all this time. They regarded each other in silent conversation, acknowledging that their current situation was just another trial they had to get through. Well, literally. They'd had a lot of trials, for many offenses, real or imagined, on many planets. Judges, juries, executioners....

"Doctor?"

"Yeah?"

"I can do this if you can."

A dark look passed behind his eyes. "Yeah."

"But if you can't, we'll--we'll find a way to get out of it."

He rested his forehead against hers and sighed, not making eye contact. "We can just do this and then go. Put it behind us," he said thoughtfully, logically, as if he was talking to himself.

"Yeah." She licked her lips, trying for some conviction. "We're strong enough. We've done worse. Well...worse, but...but different...not quite um, not quite like this."

He just nodded. After a bit he said, "Not exactly the most romantic way to go about shagging one's best mate."

Rose laughed, a genuine laugh. "It isn't, is it?"

"I thought you'd at least buy me a few drinks first, maybe flatter me a bit, chat me up."

She laughed again, and he joined her. "Maybe took you out for dinner, made an honest man out of you and let my mother know about us?"

The Doctor backed off from her, wrinkling his nose. "Oi, leave Jackie out of this." 

Rose reached up and rubbed his shoulder, smoothed down his suit jacket, trying to relax a few of the creases. She did it without thinking. "So. We just do this and get it over with. On to the next adventure."

He nodded wordlessly.

"Are you gonna be all right?" This was his way of saving her, if he could do it. And he had volunteered to do that, which she knew he would do regardless of any personal expense.

He just looked at her, his lips parting slightly. It seemed as though he'd been caught off guard. A flurry of emotion passed across his face, a subtle shifting--like a breeze tossing up a few leaves from a sidewalk before the rain came--and then, suddenly, he smiled; a soft but brilliant smile, with just a tinge of sadness.

Rose took this in, puzzled. Then it clicked for her; he wasn't used to having his needs understood, or taken into consideration. She had surprised him...and she hated it. She hated that he was surprised and grateful for being valued.

He tucked a lock of errant hair behind her ear, and drew a steadying breath. "To save Rose Tyler? Yes. I can do that. Tit for tat, eh?" He made a face. "Oo, no, no, that was bad. No, I didn't intend that. Forget I said that."

A burst of surprised laughter escaped her, her nervous energy fueling the hilarity, and she pressed her head against his chest until it subsided. He rubbed her back, and she put her arms around him. They embraced then, the fact of their imminent moment between them, and stayed silent for a long time.

***

They had both dozed off at some point. Rose woke up feeling disoriented and looked around, confused at first as to why the Doctor was in her bed. He was behind her, his arms circled around her waist, her bottom flush with his groin, but there was nothing sexual or uncomfortable about it; in fact, she felt completely at ease, safe....

And then she remembered where they were, and why. She frowned and rolled over in the Doctor's arms.

He was watching her, and his eyes glimmered in the dark. Those ancient, kind, tortured eyes. She'd recognize them anywhere, even if she could barely see them. "Hello," he whispered. 

"Hey," she whispered back. 

A beat.

"Are you all right?" they both asked, and each smiled in answer.

"How long were we asleep?" Rose whispered. She wasn't certain why they were whispering, but it was dark and it felt appropriate. It was always dark down here--there were no windows--and she didn't have an inner time sense, but she felt that it was still night.

"Three hours. Well, you were, anyway. I woke up forty minutes ahead of you. Or, rather, thirty seven minutes and fifteen point three seconds."

She nodded, the fact that she was glazing over his specifics demonstrating that she'd been with him long enough not to find his precise measurements of time strange. "When do you figure they'll come for us?"

"Probably in the morning, if it's been this long."

Her brow furrowed. "I'm just confused about one thing. How come they're giving us a chance to prove it?"

He sighed through his nose, and shrugged the shoulder he wasn't resting on. He stroked her lower back absent-mindedly. "Oh, I don't know. It's one of those paradoxical honor things. Capture people and torture them..." his pitch went up a bit and he made a face, "but do it nicely."

She giggled. 

"SHUT UP!" someone yelled from a neighboring cell.

The Doctor thumbed his nose and stuck his tongue out in that direction, and Rose clapped a hand over her mouth.

He rolled his eyes. "Guess I know who _we_ won't be freeing from their cell," he declared petulantly. "Meanie pants."

Rose buried her head against his chest and shook with silent laughter. His hand went higher, between her shoulder-blades, and he ran his fingertips over her spine as though tracing it. She shivered, her laugh freezing in her chest. She exhaled and snuggled closer to him, randomly stroking the lower bit of the lapel of his suit.

"You should get some more sleep," he whispered.

"Not sleepy."

His fingertips traveled up again, between her shoulder blades and then higher, up to her neck, under her hair. Rose squeezed her eyes shut tight, certain he meant to be soothing her, not to do what he was actually doing: filling her with a flush of arousal. "Might wanna stop that, Doctor. 'M ticklish there," she lied. "I'll wake the whole place up."

His hand stilled and cupped the back of her neck over her hair instead, making her warmer there. She stretched a bit and came more level with his throat. The tip of her nose brushed his skin and she swallowed hard, imagining tasting him there. _I definitely need to make myself go back to sleep before I make this situation even worse--if that's possible,_ she thought, and closed her eyes again. She lay like that for a long, long time, feeling that she'd never get back to sleep, but eventually the calm rise-and-fall of the Doctor's breathing lulled her as it had so many times before in other prison cells.

***

First thing in the morning, bright and early, their door rolled loudly open. "Come along," said an impatient voice.

They only had two guards this time. "What happened to your friend?" the Doctor inquired as they began their trek. They had been handcuffed again, hands behind their backs. "I do hope he's well. He was so...oh, what's the word. Rose?" he raised his eyebrows at her. "Hmm? What would you call it? Warm? No, no, that's _much_ too modest...charismatic?"

She bit her lips.

"The prisoners will be silent," one of the hooded figures commanded.

"Oh, the prisoners!" the Doctor said excitedly, looking around. "Where are _they_ , then?"

Rose snorted.

The guard to their left shoved the Doctor rudely and he stumbled, but he still stuck his chin in the air. "Just wait'll you read my Google review of this planet. Two stars, at the very most."

***

This time they weren't led to the golden room, but to a bedchamber, which automatically made their defiant mirth evaporate. Rose snuck a sidelong glance at the Doctor and decided he looked a little peaky. In fact, she felt that way herself. She might even be tempted to vomit, if she'd eaten anything recently.

A third red-robed figure was already waiting in the room, but not the one from the day prior. One of the ones who had accompanied them exited, pulling the door shut behind. The two remaining guards flanked the door.

"So." The Doctor scratched the back of his neck. "No dinner and a movie first, then? Tic Tac?"

There was no response from the silent figures standing by each side of the door.

Rose looked around. The room was sparsely finished: plain wood walls, no wallpaper, not even a painting. Bed, hope chest, standing armoire, a chair in one corner. That was all. She suddenly imagined someone in that chair, observing her and the Doctor, and had to look away. She was on the verge of hyperventilating.

The Doctor, always hyper-aware of his surroundings, did not fail to notice. He took her by the arms and looked into her face. "Rose, breathe. It's okay. It's going to be okay. Right? Breathe with me." He inhaled slowly, exhaled slowly, and Rose followed him until she fell into the hypnotizing rhythm.

The door opened again behind them, shattering the little bit of relaxation they'd found. The third guard reappeared with yet two more figures, these dressed in white ceremonial robes. They weren't as tall as the red guards.

"Blimey, we should be charging admission," the Doctor grumbled to Rose, trying to keep her spirits up, but all she managed was an apprehensive smile which quickly faded, leaving her frowning at their audience.

"Really? You're all staying, then?" she asked, a cutting edge of anger barely restrained under her words.

"No," said one of the figures in white. "Only two. We are the Magister's trusted audience. The guards will station outside the door to prevent your escape."

Rose let out an involuntary whimper.

The Doctor pulled her to him and tucked her head against his chest. "Can we just get this over with?" he barked at the assembled officials.

The guards in red exited. One of the Magister's advisers, as Rose decided to think of them, gestured wordlessly toward the bed, as if that was in any way necessary. 

The Doctor stayed where he was for a moment, his chin resting on Rose's head as it had in the prison cell. "I'm sorry," he whispered to her. He squeezed her a bit.

Rose just shook her head. "No. Stop sayin' that."

The Doctor bent a bit and whispered in her ear, "Let's just do this. Like we said, yeah?" He kissed her softly beneath her ear, surprising her. She pulled back to look at him. His eyes were troubled but gentle, and he clasped her hands and pulled her slowly toward the bed.

They just stood there beside it for a moment, awkwardly, looking over it as though they had opened the door of the TARDIS to survey an unknown planet. The mattress looked comfortable; there was a downy duvet, plenty of pillows. It was a four-poster canopy bed, very sturdy-looking, with the curtains drawn back...for the pervs' viewing pleasure. 

_Wonder what you have to do to get_ that _job,_ Rose thought angrily, and shrugged flippantly. "Well," she said, "we've shared a bed before." She climbed on and headed for the far side, settling down, only realizing once she got there that she still had her shoes on. She began pulling them off as the Doctor (who had already had the forethought to remove his shoes) sat cross-legged on his side of the mattress, exuding all the relaxed energy of a bird warily eying a lion drinking from the other side of a pond.

Rose let her shoes thunk dramatically onto the floor, pretending that she felt at home. She was painfully aware--had become so over the past couple of minutes--that the Doctor had the rawest end of this deal: he had to actually...perform.

Oh god.

How was she going to get him to do that?

She swallowed hard, her face suddenly breaking out in a flaming blush.

He just stared at her, eyes wide, and she saw that he was starting to flush a bit pink as well. There his hand went again, to the back of his neck, scratching as he looked away. 

Rose chewed her lip. To think that earlier she'd actually been musing on how sexy it would be to make him lose control. Remembering that now, she almost broke out into hysterical laughter. She'd had no idea that said scenario would be sprung on her like a pop quiz such a short amount of time later. It really wasn't funny, though. It was horrifying.

"We're on a schedule," one of the advisers said mildly from across the room. They were standing against the wall opposite the footboard, now, so that they had a clear view.

Rose fixed them with a stony glare. "You _are_ kiddin' me, right?"

The adviser blinked a bit apprehensively, then shook his head to indicate he was not kiddin'. 

Rose heard the Doctor heave a sigh, and when she looked over at him she saw him looking down, defeat in the set of his shoulders. He was loosening his tie. 

She crawled closer to him across the wide bed, struck with sympathy for him. "Here," she whispered. "Let me do that."

He looked up at her as she took his tie in hand and began, gently, to undo it.

"I'm always going on about how clever I am," the Doctor said bitterly.

"It's not the end of the world. And besides, we've done that already. Saved twenty-seven planets, stopped the stars from going out. Piece of cake, this." She looked at him kindly, slowly sliding his tie from his collar. She tossed it over his side of the bed and watched his Adam's apple bob. 

She hesitated, looking at all his buttons. She bit her lip and reached out, releasing the one on his suit jacket from its hole. She thought fondly on how he always buttoned the jacket haphazardly, sometimes only getting one button, sometimes two, sometimes missing a few in between in his haste to get out the door and on to the next adventure. He wore so many layers, and yet he was careless with the last. He watched her face, expressionless, but shrugged the jacket off and let it drop to the floor.

Rose's hand hesitated at his collar. 

He nodded almost imperceptibly. 

She knew it felt as surreal for him as it did for her. She nearly froze; she didn't know what he was thinking as she undressed him while he stared at her unflinchingly. 

With some difficulty, she met his eyes head-on as she unbuttoned his shirt. She wanted to make this less traumatic for him--they could do that, for each other. Couldn't they? Her hands were shaking. She fumbled unsuccessfully with the third button on the first couple of tries, then finally got it undone. He was still at arm's length, so she drew in closer to him so she could work a little better with her wonky coordination. 

When she got to the fifth button, he raised his left hand and stroked his fingertips gently down the side of her face. Her breath caught in her throat.

He smiled gently, and she returned it, successfully undoing the last few buttons. "Rose?" he asked, softly enough so that the other people in the room couldn't hear.

"Hmm?" she answered, not trusting her voice.

"I can make this good for you. I-I think. I mean...." He swallowed, then took a shaky breath, and she caressed the back of his neck, frowning. He had gone from pink to a nice shade of red. 

He tried again, fixing on her with a sure gaze. "They aren't there. We're alone."

She looked back at him, not breathing. "Yeah?" she barely managed to whisper. She wasn't sure any sound actually came out.

He nodded. "We're...we're on Fazni," he began, licking his lips nervously. She could see the wheels turning, see him trying to concoct a story, which was likely where his mind had been the past couple of minutes. 

They'd both liked Fazni; it was a temperate planet, lots of vegetation, very peaceful. They'd gone hiking there, befriended natives, played board games and brush games, chased each other around like a couple of overgrown kids. She'd rarely felt more relaxed with him, and he had seemed perfectly at ease as well. They'd only stayed a couple of days before moving on, though. She was touched that he apparently remembered their time there as well as she did, recalled it fondly enough for it to become a safe place for them to revisit right now. Leave it to the Doctor to take them someplace when they were stuck right where they were.

"We're there, and they've just put the fire out. Remember?"

At night, the natives put the communal fire out so that everyone was forced to go to bed; fire-building was a huge task, so once the main fire was out, that was it. Everyone had to go to their hut and get in their kipsi (a giant, warm, sleeping-bag like item) to get warm. Once that fire was out, sharing body-heat was the only thing that could keep the natives alive in the freezing night temperatures, so they slept in pairs. No one was ever alone in a kipsi. Rose and the Doctor had found themselves shoved in one together, feeling like they were trapped in the world's biggest burrito. It had been awkward at first, but of course they'd begun cracking jokes about it ("You're the cheese," Rose had teased him, giving him her tongue-touched grin) and in no time the hilarity had overruled any discomfort. The first night they'd kicked at each other, tickled each other, and finally he just crushed her against him and sighed contentedly, still grinning. She'd tangled her legs around his and that's how they had fallen asleep.

That night and the next they'd slept tightly entwined, and if she woken up with his hand resting warmly just beneath her breast, or discovered that she'd turned on her side and thrown a leg over his hips, those things seemed to be okay. Those things were excusable in a kipsi.

Rose nodded. "The kipsi. Yeah."

His eyes traced the curve of her neck, but with apprehension. "Yeah."

"Our only way to stay warm," Rose encouraged. "What made you think of that?"

The Doctor shrugged out of his outer shirt. He had a Henley on underneath, for pete's sake; so many layers, as always. But they were being stripped away now, and he didn't look ready for it in the least. Rose wasn't, either. In truth, she'd rather he kept his shirt on. She didn't want it this way.

"It was nice, that planet. Wasn't it? We felt safe there." He was trying to help them feel safe again.

"Okay. So the fire is out," Rose prompted, her voice a little more strained than she wanted it to be.

"The fire is out," the Doctor parroted. "And--"

Rose had grabbed the edge of his Henley but was hesitating, swallowing hard, her eyes watering. The Doctor saw the look on her face and reached down quickly, stripping the shirt off himself. He tossed it aside, failing to hide some of his anger, then resumed his story. "Do you know the best way to stay warm, Rose?"

She took in the sight of him shirtless, something she'd never seen before, trying to make it feel real. She felt a bit dizzy. She shook her head in response to his question.

"The best way to stay warm is to strip down to nothing. That way you aren't layered up and perspiring. The humidity makes you colder." He finally touched her, reaching out to stroke a hand down her side, over her shirt. She just watched his lips move as he spoke. "So, we take off our clothing to get into the kipsi. It's just logical. Right?"

Rose smiled, her first genuine smile since they'd entered the room. She broke out of her stasis enough to pull her top over her head, pretending to buy into the Doctor's logic, pretending that the advisers over there were the harmless natives of Fazni, who undressed in front of each other all the time without concern. She tossed the yellow top behind her, then started on the button of her jeans, but the Doctor stayed her hand with his. When his eyes met hers again, she was so surprised at the warmth in them that she felt boneless. "Here, Rose," he said, "let me help you. Your hands are frozen." He kept his eyes on her face as he reached down and deftly undid her button.

Rose could hardly believe that her breathing had just sped up a little. How could she possibly be turned on? ...Then again, how could she _not_ be? This was the Doctor--her best mate--and she was hopelessly in love with him. Always had been.

She felt guilty for desiring him under these circumstances. But...there was a high probability that he was _trying_ to turn her on. He'd told her he thought he could make this good for her. But...oh, bugger, this was pure hell. 

The Doctor's hand continued downward, pulling on her zipper. Rose fought to tame her breathing. His hands went to her hips and he began slowly pushing her jeans down off her. She had a feeling her knickers were a lot more damp than she would like for him to realize, and hoped he wasn't thinking of going that far just yet. He delicately pulled each foot free from the denim, then reached to undo his own trousers. Rose stared helplessly while he undid his belt, then button and zipper, and shed the familiar pinstripes. He flung them over the footboard almost rebelliously. Her gaze flickered nervously over his body, and she noted that the only items left separating them were underwear: her knickers and bra, his briefs. 

For the love of everything holy, he was in his briefs. The Doctor was in his briefs. She now knew that the Doctor wore briefs. He got up every morning, showered, and put on his briefs, and now she could picture that. 

The Doctor crawled slowly up the bed. She stared at him, her eyes so wide it felt like they'd bug out of her head.

"So," she squeaked nervously. "The kipsi."

He nodded. "So we get in, like this." She could still read tension in the lines of his body as he moved to lift the duvet. Rose half expected the advisers to tell them they weren't allowed to take cover, but when no protest came she figured that the mental validation they would receive through whatever telepathy they possessed would be enough. Again, the universe granting them small favors in the face of great adversity.

The Doctor slid under the covers, holding them up for her. She scooted in next to him and reached out to him tentatively, needing to touch him, needing the comfort of her best friend. She stroked her hand up his chest and he shivered in a way she could only interpret as a demonstration of his nerves. She heard and felt him release a long breath.

"Then what?" Rose whispered. "We get in, and...."

"And...." He was propped up enough that the duvet over them made a little tent, not quite conforming to their bodies. He still had enough light to see her by, not that he probably needed much. Or, Rose amended to herself, any. His gaze skipped over her as he trailed his fingers along her side. "And then I realize I've never felt so much of your skin," he said, his eyes meeting hers again. 

The breath that escaped Rose was shaky. "And...what does that...I mean...how does that affect you?" She immediately regretted her choice of words, realizing their unintended innuendo.

"Well," he said softly, easily barreling over her faux-pas (bless him) as he settled down further so that his head was resting on his upper arm. He pulled the edge of the blanket up over their heads, leaving just enough space to breathe, as though they really were back in the kipsi. "I'm a bit flustered. I'm not quite sure where to put my hands."

Rose swallowed hard. She could feel his breath on her face. The Doctor reached for her and gingerly pulled her close against him. Her body made full contact with his, but just barely. The tension of that final increment of space left to be bridged between them seemed strange and fragile, the bubble of an illusion about to burst. Suddenly they weren't just best mates anymore, and she couldn't pretend they were; she was a woman, and he was a man, and the attraction that had always brewed under the surface between them demanded attention, demanded that whatever they were holding back, they let go of. Right now. Whether they were ready for it or not. They had to make this work.

Wordlessly, Rose reached for the Doctor's free hand. She guided it and placed it on the curve of her hip, easing closer to him. He leaned in toward her hesitantly, and slowly ran his hand over the curve of her hip onto her bottom. Rose tried desperately to deny to herself that there was an unbearable heat building between her legs. _This is wrong, wrong, so wrong...._

His hand began tracing a familiar path, the one she'd felt last night. His fingertips skated upward, along her spine, and it was her turn to shiver uncontrollably. He trailed them across the sensitive skin of her low back, between her shoulder blades, and finally reached her neck. When she said nothing, he murmured teasingly, "I thought you were ticklish."

She just looked at him helplessly. 

His eyes flickered back and forth between hers, as though he was reading a book. "So," he murmured. "Here we are, in our kipsi, and it's freezing cold outside, and dark...and you're pressed against me, very warm and alive, Rose Tyler, and my hands are on you, and I want to break every rule I've ever made for myself."

Rose sighed and, very tentatively, ran her hands gently over his chest. He had a light smattering of chest-hair, just enough, not too much. Her fingertips coasted through it. The Doctor boosted himself up just enough to angle his head. She closed her eyes, knowing what came next and feeling sick with simultaneous fear and desire. 

His lips skated fleetingly over hers, so softly that she almost wondered if she'd imagined it. It wasn't anything that could properly be called a kiss. Rose felt the Doctor's hand smooth slowly from the back of her neck to her right shoulder. He bumped her nose with his, his fringe tickling her forehead. "I don't have to kiss you to do this," he whispered. "Do you want me to?" 

She wasn't sure how she would survive if he didn't. His warm breath flowed across her face, erasing everything else. "Yes," she breathed, glancing up at him through her lashes, and a moment later his mouth met hers with more conviction. His eyes were still open, regarding her as he gave her several soft, closed-mouth kisses, but they fluttered shut as he parted his lips over hers, giving her a choice, and she opened up. He hauled her firmly against him, and for a moment her mind tortured her with an image of the advisers standing stock-still against the wall, just staring at the covers, overhearing every word, every breath. She pushed the image away. Almost in defiance, she brought her hand to the back of the Doctor's neck, scratching lightly at his hairline, and felt his tongue finally curl softly around hers as her leg went around his waist. He made a small sound, something like need or lust, and she felt her heart stutter.

All the times she'd imagined him kissing her, she'd never imagined it would feel as nice as this. Kissing him was like catching a glimpse of the rarest thing.

When Rose had used the dimension cannon to break through other parallel universes to find him, there had been a pull, a sort of resistant static hum that she felt each time as she was transported. It always left her feeling out of sorts for a while afterward...just, strange, and not herself. Like there was a wad of cotton between her and the rest of the world. She couldn't have accurately described it to anyone if she'd tried, so she never did. More than anything, she kept it to herself so that no one would try to stop her search. And now...it was like she could feel the essence of _him_ in this moment; something else she wasn't certain how to name, but instinctually she knew that this was the answering resonance in him, a hum to counter that other. 

She'd kissed him before for other reasons, never because of how she actually felt for him, and she had never sensed this. This was him, really him. His cool lips, his gently probing tongue, and her hand moving up with a mind of its own to curl into his soft hair.

The Doctor stroked his hand over her shoulder until it reached her bra strap, and his fingertip slipped underneath almost teasingly. He pulled it down, broke the kiss, and dragged his lips over her neck to where the strap had been, his breath coasting over her skin along the way. He hesitated, looking at her bra, and Rose was about to ask him if he was okay when he moved his hand to gently palm one breast. 

She closed her eyes, breathing hard, unable to control her reaction as his thumb ran gently over the lace.

Slowly, very slowly, the Doctor pulled at the cloth of her bra from the top of the cup, drawing it down to reveal her nipple, which he touched gingerly with the tip of his tongue.

"Doctor," Rose gasped, as quietly as she could. He moved to kiss between her breasts, then drew further down beneath the duvet. She felt a sudden kiss on her belly, then another just south of her belly button. She shivered with anticipation and fear; fear that he would discover how much she wanted him. Fear that their friendship would fall to tatters. But not fear of him; never fear of him.

He hooked his fingers in the top of her knickers and drew them slowly down her legs. She tried not to think about the Doctor's superior night vision as he did this.

"Come here," she whispered after her knickers had been drawn down over her heels. She was too nervous to let him stay down there. 

She parted her legs to make room for him, and he crawled tentatively forward, moving slowly up to her chest while she watched him, self-conscious of the way her breasts were heaving with her breath. He hesitated, and she read guilt in the set of his shoulders. She took pity on him and grabbed his arm with one hand, urging him closer, even as the other hand went to the front clasp on her bra and undid it. She let the cups fall to the sides. 

She was naked. Naked in front of the Doctor. He took her in, his gaze coming back to settle on her face, an apology still written over his features.

"Yours still has to come off," Rose said, not able to name _what_ it was of his that still had to come off. As he slid over her and finally came face-level with her, she let her hand wander downward to trace around the band of his briefs to elaborate. His cool skin twitched under her fingertip. 

He suddenly moved in for another kiss. There was no mistaking the passion in this one; it was warm and soft and wet and urgent, and he laid on top of her finally, every part of them meeting. She could feel him through his briefs; he wasn't hard, not yet. She thought quickly, and brought one leg up around his waist. She rocked her hips against him and sucked his tongue softly. This was the first blatantly sexual thing she'd done--out of desire, at least--and her actions coaxed a surprised noise from somewhere deep in his chest. He pulled back from the kiss, his eyes questioning. 

Never breaking his gaze, she moved her hips against him again. His breath hitched, so softly she almost didn't hear it, and she felt him stirring against her. She rocked again, silently begging him. She had to make this happen; she needed to get him out of here just as much as he wished he'd been able to get her out.

His breath caught again, louder, and the sound was unbearably sexy. Rose could no longer deny how affected she was; this wasn't ideal, not by a long shot, but it was him, and it was her. She strained up to catch his lower lip between her teeth. She bit lightly, then licked it delicately. "I want this, Doctor, it's okay."

He swallowed heavily for about the hundredth time since they'd begun. "Really?" he whispered, looking, frankly, petrified.

She nodded and rocked against him again. "I'm ready, if--"

"You've got ten minutes," came a voice from across the room, making them tense against each other. Whatever desire he'd worked up deflated in a flash.

"Seriously," Rose fumed, "you need to _SHUT. UP._ Shut up! Or this is not happening!" 

She was pinned under the Doctor, and she was yelling. Essentially yelling into his face. He closed his eyes.

Silence from across the room. 

"I'm sorry," Rose whispered, taking his face between her hands.

He didn't open his eyes, just gave his head a little shake. "This isn't going to work, Rose. I'm sorry, I can't do it, not like this...."

"Hey, hey...look at me," she said gently, tracing her thumbs underneath his eyes. He opened them reluctantly, and she whispered conspiratorially, "Tell me about some of your fantasies."

His eyes widened. "I--"

"You must have some. Everyone does."

He was blushing again. 

"I can tell you some of mine," she offered, desperate now to get this going. If she didn't shag him now, she was going to be shagging some stranger in the near future. She knew the Doctor didn't want that; she knew that this was pure torture for him as well, and that the pressure was too much. She knew very little about _him_ , but she knew that blokes in general didn't perform well under pressure. They got stage fright.

He said nothing. Rose had never known him to talk so little; right about now the last thing he probably felt like doing was speaking.

She licked her lips, deciding it was time to put it all out there. "Sometimes I lie in my bed in the TARDIS at night, and I try to imagine what you might be doing."

His brow furrowed in confusion.

Rose had never been more embarrassed, but she forged on. "And I wonder if, when I'm not around, you think about me...and touch yourself."

She could no longer read his expression. That made her extremely nervous.

"I slip my hand under the covers, between my legs...and I wonder if you know, if you can sense, what I'm doing. It's a sentient ship, after all, and you're a telepath, yeah?" She bit her lip briefly. "Do you know, Doctor?"

Something had shifted there behind his eyes; he seemed to have passed from nervousness into intense focus, so she continued, reminding herself that if she didn't forge ahead, they would die--the Doctor more quickly than her. "One of my favorite fantasies is that I push you up against the console and I unbutton your trousers. Then I kneel down and I slowly slide your cock into my mouth."

He sucked in a breath at that word, seeming taken aback at her language...or maybe just taken aback at how much it affected him. He shifted a little, and she could feel him pulsing to life against her thigh. The Doctor really was a bloke under his seemingly asexual exterior and one-too-many-layers-of-clothing-to-be-convincing shield. More to the point, the Doctor liked dirty talk. "That's it," she whispered, pressing meaningfully against him. "Now I feel you."

He had brought his forehead to rest against hers and closed his eyes. "Oh Rose," he whispered shakily. He kissed her again, deeper than before, and finally rocked his hips against hers, his hardness sliding against her, only the thin layer of fabric separating them. She rocked with him and moaned deep in her throat, still trying to stay as quiet as she could, to keep this thing--whatever was happening between them, if anything, in fact, was--as private as possible. 

She pulled away from the kiss and tugged meaningfully at the top of his briefs. "These. Off." 

The Doctor shifted and maneuvered awkwardly. She used the toes of her right foot to help draw the garment down his legs. 

It was a strange moment, and Rose fiercely resented that its gorgeousness would forever be marred by the circumstances. Instead of enjoying him she was left with several burning questions: did he really want this? Could he? Just because he was finding a way to do it didn't mean it was really okay for him. Just because he felt tenderly for her didn't mean he was in love with her. But the feeling of all of his skin meeting all of hers was something she swore she'd never forget until the day she died, even if she never felt it again. He was fair all over, and smooth and freckled, and he seemed to radiate--through his very skin--the impossible vibrancy he exuded every day. He was so, so soft against her, as was his touch.

The harsh reality was that they were both naked with--Rose guessed--about three minutes to spare.

All of these thoughts had flashed through her mind over the course of about ten precious seconds; the Doctor was still in the process of re-situating himself after removing his briefs. When he drew up level with her, she practically fell into the deep brown of his irises, into the sympathy and tenderness she saw there. She straightened her leg as he shifted away from her slightly, onto his left side, and she felt him coast a hand up the inside of her thigh, light as a feather. She parted her legs more, and he ran a finger between her folds as she watched him, biting her lip at the cool temperature of his skin. When he felt how slick she was he stilled, his eyes closing again and his breath growing ragged. She felt his erection twitch against her leg, felt him press almost involuntarily against her, in need of friction. She knew at that moment that instinct had taken over for him, and that if they were going to do this, then they needed to do it now.

Rose leaned in toward him and kissed him softly, breathily. She twined her fingers in his hair and he suddenly rolled back onto her, slotting himself between her legs. She rocked her hips up against him urgently, and he slid down and forward into her wet heat without hesitation.

They froze momentarily, clutching each other, and then he panted softly against her neck, pulled back, slid in again. They both shuddered. He nuzzled the side of her face and gently sucked on a tender patch of skin just below her ear. 

Rose raised her knees up and tilted her hips under him at his next thrust. This time she felt his whole body shake with pleasure, just as she was shaking. 

"How will you mark me, Doctor?" Rose whispered, biting back a moan as he stroked one hand along her right side, ending by cupping her buttock. 

He kissed the tip of her nose, her lips. "I'm doing it...now," he gasped, punctuating the last word with a harder thrust, and she couldn't help the whimper that escaped her.

"Keepdoingthat," she exhaled, her eyes falling shut. 

He hooked one of her legs over his arm, opening her up more. He had one hand fisted in the bedding just beside her head, and he tightened his grip there and fucked her harder, his body meeting hers with a subtle grind at the end of each thrust. He was breathing roughly, nosing the hair at her temple, his lower lip brushing her damp skin. 

Rose held back a cry, swallowing it, so close now. She scratched her nails lightly over his chest, arching into him, and whispered, "Oh Doctor...."

He said nothing in return, but raised himself so he could see her face. His eyes burned, full of her. His hips slid between hers. Their skin was sheened with sweat, and she was hot and slick and aching, and they moved easily with each other as though they had done it before. She felt herself at the precipice, and then he thrust again, angling so that his pubic bone rubbed her clit. He was entering her with enough force to move her whole body on the mattress, but he was controlled, calculating, careful not to hurt her. He kept up this maneuver for several thrusts while Rose teetered on the edge, tense and helpless. Suddenly she felt a wave of heat break over her skin and she came hard, as silently as she could. Her head fell back and her mouth fell open, brows drawing together, her hands at his waist pulling him in closer, her nails biting little crescent moons into his skin. He watched her with a strange look of desperation on his face, but was unable to find his own release; he was still too nervous underneath his brave façade.

When Rose had recovered from her high, she pulled him down to kiss him thoroughly again. His lips were hot and receptive, and she curled her tongue and stroked it against the roof of his mouth. "Come, Doctor," she murmured against his lips. She anchored him with her gaze and said, as intensely as she could, "I want it."

She purposefully tightened herself around him from the inside.

He gasped over her mouth, and a storm of emotion flit across his face: awe, the agony of pleasure, a tranquility that somehow occurred simultaneously with surprise--and his next thrust was shallow and brief. "I'm going to...I'm...." He bit his lip, suppressing a cry so that it escaped as little more than a whimper, and she felt him come. She clung to him hard through it, stroking his back, his neck, his buttocks, everywhere she could, pressing him down against her with his head in the crook of her neck until his shaking subsided. It had been so, so long for him, she knew--she couldn't imagine the intensity of what he was feeling, physically and emotionally. She stroked her fingers through his sweaty hair again and again.

They laid there, their breath slowing, neither wanting to get back up and face reality. He turned his head and nuzzled his face into her neck. She continued to stroke him soothingly. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, but she refused to say the words in this room. Instead she rubbed her cheek and nose gently against the side of his face and placed a little kiss by his ear, as he had done with her before they'd begun.

"Let's just go," he murmured, shaken. 

She squeezed him tightly, comfortingly. "Yes, Doctor, we'll go home. We'll go back to the TARDIS. Soon, I promise."

***

After they'd gotten up and pulled their clothing back on, they walked down the hall a bit apart from each other, not holding hands. The guards were behind them, forming a looser escort now, and the two were not handcuffed. They were being sent back to see the Magister. Ironically, the Doctor was leading the pack. Rose gave him his space; she could sense the fury radiating off him.

She wasn't sure what had just taken place--what his actions had meant. If he had been acting, for her sake (he'd wanted to make it good for her rather than traumatic, after all), or if he had been taking comfort in their ease with each other, transforming the intimacy of their friendship into something else to suit the needs of the moment because he knew that she would understand and forgive him. 

She tossed her head, raking her fingers through her tangled hair, and pulled at the hem of her shirt to straighten it. She wasn't going to analyze anything right now. She could see the Doctor gearing up for something, and it was business as usual, and she would back him up as she always did.

The Doctor flung the door to the Magister's chamber open, but then belied his anger by walking slowly up the aisle between the glowing candles, hands in his pockets. Rose came up and stood beside him.

"My wife has been marked," the Doctor said, his voice dangerously placid. "Does it please you?" This last was laced through with sarcasm. The Oncoming Storm was written across his face.

Rose, still high on oxytocin and endorphins, tried to ignore how sexy she found him at the moment. It was wrong, on so many levels, to be checking him out right now.

The Magister looked him over, then Rose. After a long moment, she nodded, just once, and looked to the advisers behind them, who must have given some signal. "You're dismissed," she said, and looked ready to be done with them. They were no longer of interest to her.

The Doctor just stood where he was, regarding the Magister, as though frozen. Rose tugged at his arm, trying to get him to move, or take her hand. "Doctor," she whispered. "C'mon."

He turned, giving her a knowing look, the flash of a mischievous smile, and finally took her hand. 

A smile bloomed on Rose's face; the Doctor had a plan.

_To be continued...._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor has a plan. The Doctor is a man of action. When he has a plan to carry out, he's in his element. But what about when he's alone with Rose Tyler again after what they've just been through?
> 
> The third and last chapter. I am not lying when I tell you I spent *all day* writing this. I really, really hope you guys like it. I want you to like it so much, in fact, that if you don’t I will rewrite the whole chapter.

***

Their first stop was the TARDIS. The Doctor kept up a punishing pace all the way there, but Rose stayed level with him. She was barely inside the door before he'd rushed to the console and begun pulling levers. He glanced back over his shoulder at her, his eyes glinting, and said, "Don't worry. We aren't going far." He smiled darkly, and a moment later they landed with a shudder.

The Doctor turned and dashed down a hallway, leaving her to stare after him, bewildered. He was only gone for a minute or so, and then reappeared, his hands full of....

"Doctor, what are those?"

He looked privately amused. "You can think of them as my happy thoughts."

"What?"

He nudged the door open with his shoulder and nodded his head toward whatever lay beyond. "Are you coming or not?"

***

They were in an airplane hangar, that much was clear, although the structure was nothing like Rose was accustomed to. She was vaguely more familiar with this type of aircraft, however, having seen similar designs on other planets.

The structure itself was hexagonal, with long metal beams running up from the tops of the walls to the center of the pointed ceiling. The entire place was lit with soft yellow tube lights which conformed to the walls and ran the full inside perimeter. The crafts were intimidating, built low to the ground so they resembled crouching animals. They were black and triangular, but with rounded corners. Their protruding tops were curved gently, sloping like the bellies of pregnant women. They looked military and had been built for silent nighttime flying; for stealth. Rose knew they would make little to no noise while flying.

The Doctor began climbing over them, sonicing the seamless doors on top. Rose followed him, handing him his gadgets, and he dropped his "happy thoughts" inside, one per craft. The Doctor was strangely silent, not keeping up a string of explanatory dialogue like he usually would. There were no quips being made. Rose was worried about him.

After the Doctor had finished his rounds, he dropped to the ground from the last craft and headed swiftly back to the TARDIS, practically flying inside. He paused on the ramp and turned to Rose, grinning maniacally, eyes sparkling. "You should like this next bit."

"What are we doing, Doctor?"

"We're saving the day," he growled triumphantly, turning to the console and zealously throwing a switch, starting the dematerialization sequence.

"What were those things?" Rose asked. They hadn't fully taken off yet, and just as she finished her question, she felt and heard a small explosion. It was some distance away, but it rocked the TARDIS just a bit all the same. Her eyes widened. "What did you do?"

"I didn't hurt anyone," he said stiffly, punching a few buttons. "I just disabled them."

Rose stared at him as he moved them into the vortex. His face was lit by the green light of the time rotor. It lit his smooth skin, his eyelids, as he evaded her gaze.

***

The Doctor poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, then ducked back in and looked at her over his shoulder, scrunching up his lips and tilting his head. "Eeeeh...close enough." He disappeared out the doors, leaving Rose befuddled.

She headed after him without hesitation, nervous, wanting to keep him out of trouble. Though, to be honest, she was excited too. She chased after him and his flapping coat, the soles of his trainers flashing white as he sprinted down a long, dark hallway toward his destination. She was grinning as she tore after him.

They had landed in a small storage room, which obviously had not been the Doctor's aim (well, it had been his aim...his poor aim), but they were close to wherever it was they needed to be, as evidenced by the Doctor's haste.

He made a right turn and slid to an abrupt stop outside of an intimidating metal door. He fumbled briefly in his pocket for the sonic, then whipped it out and pointed it at the lock. Rose couldn't help but notice that his hand was shaking a little, but she didn't have time to ask him about it.

The Doctor leaned his shoulder into the door, and it jerked open onto a bright, sterile lab. The Doctor stumbled in his forward momentum, then caught his balance and paused in the middle of the room. He looked awed as he turned a slow circle, surveying all the equipment.

Rose looked from the Doctor to the mess of technology surrounding them. She was about to ask him where they were when it occurred to her that she already knew, because she knew where it was that they needed to be. "Is this...this is where they do it?"

"This is where they biologically engineer their mated pairs for compatibility," he said, his voice low and tinged with anger. 

Rose felt a thrill of fear and disgust shoot through her, making her stomach churn. 

He approached a metal machine with a white outer casing. It looked a bit like a large, super-powered microwave. He ran a hand over the top of it and looked at it closely, inside and out. He whipped out his glasses and slid them on swiftly to get a better look, leaning down and darting back and forth, touching and peering. "They've gathered scraps from all across the universe. They're scavengers," he said, sounding distracted, as if he was talking to himself. He turned around again and dashed to the counter top against the opposite wall. He pawed through bottles and vials. They spilled and rolled away. He grabbed a flask and paused, staring at it like he'd never seen a flask before. He stood like that for a long time. For so long, in fact, that Rose grew worried.

"Doctor?"

He pulled his arm back, a wild look in his eyes, and heaved the flask across the room. It smashed loudly against a cupboard, its contents dripping to the floor. His chest was heaving.

Rose went to him, but he didn't look at her. He was looking at the pieces of the broken flask. She circled her arms around his neck, hugged him tightly. After a long moment, one of his arms curled around her low back. "That was nice, you should try it," he said conversationally. "Good stress relief."

She didn't respond, and he pulled away from her, business-like once again. 

"We have to get rid of all this. They can't recreate it. They scrapped, begged, and borrowed...and then they abused their power, and everyone knows it. They can't ask any more favors. Desperation makes you stupid." He hesitated, and added under his breath, "Desire makes you stupid."

Rose had been looking at a strange piece of equipment that somewhat resembled a printer, but she frowned and glanced back at him when he said this. He studiously didn't look at her. He had soniced the "microwave" open and now began to lustily rip its guts out, pulling wires and screws.

Rose set about seeing what she could destroy. She definitely felt like destroying something.

***

The lab had been obliterated. They'd pulled apart as much as they could, and the Doctor had tossed his last "happy thought" inside as they exited. They beat a hasty retreat back to the TARDIS.

"This area is high security," the Doctor said. "I'm surprised we made it this far. They should be here any second, but we aren't sticking around for that. We have an appointment."

As they ran back inside the TARDIS, Rose had to ask. "Doctor...your 'happy thoughts.' What do they do?"

He moved around the console, pressing buttons, looking at the view screen. "They're tech bombs. They destroy technology. Fry it. Kaput. Nothing left--Bob's your uncle. But you don't want to be in the vicinity when they go off, oh no. That could be messy."

Rose blinked. "But then...why'd we just tear the lab apart?"

He looked at her and shrugged. "I dunno. Felt good, didn't it?"

She smiled, and he returned it, but there was no heart in his.

***

The Magister was more than surprised to be arrested. She was even more surprised to find herself in her own dungeon-esque prison with all of her guards and her two advisers as neighbors.

"You can't abandon us here," she hissed at the Doctor, reaching through the bars to try to grab his coat. 

He stepped slowly back out of her reach, nonchalant as could be, his chin held high. 

"We'll die. Are you a murderer, Doctor?"

"Oooh...." his eyes rolled up, as though he had to think about it, and he puffed a heavy sigh that ruffled the fringe above his forehead. "Yeah. Yeah, actually, I am."

He slid his hands into his pockets and looked at his prisoners straight on, studying them carefully. His eyes were dark. "But not today." He turned to head out, grabbing Rose's hand and pulling her close. "I'll send someone to see after you," he called back, not turning around.

***

It had been a long, emotional day. They'd arrested the Magister, freed the breeders, and instructed the officials in the Outer City that they could and should remove the wall and eliminate the Inner City now that it had been fairly well disarmed.

"All in a day's work," the Doctor said, collapsing onto the jump seat and loosening his tie. He ran a hand back through his hair. He looked exhausted. "Get arrested, destroy a city, start a small war." He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Cup of tea?"

She just fell onto the seat next to him like a sack of potatoes and rested her head on his shoulder. He leaned against her and they sat like that for a long while. 

"I need a shower," Rose murmured eventually.

"Yeah," the Doctor said.

"Oi," Rose protested, without much conviction. She was too tired to work up conviction.

"I meant I could use one too."

"Oh. Let's both go do that then."

"Yeah. Allons-y." 

They didn't move. Finally, after about five minutes, the Doctor got up and headed toward the corridor, his gait slow. He turned around and looked at her. She looked up at him questioningly from where she still sat on the jump seat. 

"I'm so sorry," he said earnestly. His eyes were deep and unblinking. Rose opened her mouth to answer, but he held up a hand. "No. I had to say it."

She closed her mouth as he turned around and disappeared down the corridor.

Rose felt a warm tear drop down her cheek. She wiped at it and got up to go take her shower.

***

The Doctor leaned against the shower wall with one hand and let the hot water run over his back. He closed his eyes for a moment, but all he could see was Rose's face.

How could he go on with her now like everything was normal? He'd tried so hard to maintain a distance between them, for their own good. That didn't mean they weren't intimate. They were intimate in many ways, just not...more. They were the Doctor and Rose. 

He was pretty sure she knew how he felt about her. She must. 

He sighed, realizing it was doing no good to avoid thinking about it. He _couldn't_ avoid thinking about it. What he wasn't sure about was whether he should talk to her about it, or pave over like it had never happened. What would she want? Maybe he should just let her take the lead on this.

He took his time washing his hair, then ran a bar of soap over his body, unable to stop thinking of her as he did. He furrowed his brow and frowned at a mark on his hip until he realized that he was seeing the little crescent moons left over from where she'd dug her nails into him. That, of course, made him recall the way her face had tensed when she came. He felt his blood rush south, helpless to stop it. 

She was beautiful. He hadn't wanted her that way, but who could fail to notice how beautiful she was? He'd have to be blind. And he most certainly wasn't blind.

He turned the shower off and toweled dry, ignoring his arousal, feeling wrong about it. He wrapped his towel around his waist and walked out of his en suite into his bedroom. He paused before his bed; it was a canopy bed. It resembled...that other.

The Doctor shook his head and climbed onto the covers, forcing his mind to shut down. He was tired; he needed sleep. The rest could wait, whatever "the rest" was.

He wondered about Rose's current state of mind. He hoped she was all right. That was his last thought before he drifted off.

***

Rose undressed, glad to be out of the yellow top and the jeans that she'd been wearing for what felt like forever now. They were dirty, covered with sand, saturated with nervous sweat. She tossed them into her hamper, along with her underthings, and padded naked into her en suite. She was so happy to see her shower that she could have cried again. She turned the water on as hot as she could stand it and got in, instantly feeling the relief of some of her tension dropping away from her body.

But not from her mind. If anything, her mind was even busier in the shower.

She was sad for the Doctor, scared for him. He was fierce and angry and ever-changing, living life after life, looking for answers, maybe asking some of the same questions again and again, making some of the same mistakes time after time because life was never black-and-white. Sometimes what didn't apply to one situation did to another. He must have a long history of hating himself, of questioning his choices. And he'd had so many years to reflect. And now he had to deal with today, with what had happened between them. He could do it, she knew, but that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt.

She was glad they'd destroyed that fucking lab. She had never seen the Doctor quite like that--his complete joy in tearing something apart. But he had let her see it. He hadn't shut her out.

Thinking about him, about his different selves and whatever errors he had made, she smiled. He could still put a veneer of humor over all of it, and he still had his quiet control, and kept so many things to himself that a lesser man would have bragged about. Her chest hurt with how much she loved him, loved him and all of his flaws. He might shut down now that they were back on the TARDIS, but she would try her best not to let him, to keep the channel between them open. She felt closer to him now, she couldn't help it. She knew that was the nature of sex, the result of their intimacy--even if forced--but the feelings were there, nonetheless. She wondered if he felt it, even a little.

She resolved that she'd see this through with him no matter how he chose to handle the situation. No matter what happened between them from here on out. She'd told him she was never going to leave him, and so far she'd kept that promise despite all the odds, despite a universe dividing them. She'd try to get him to open up, but even if he shut her out she knew that for the Doctor, just being with a companion was huge. It was an enormous compliment. She was loved, in whatever way he _could_ love her. 

She put some body wash on her netted sponge and moved it in circles over her body, washing away her stress, the beach...and traces of the Doctor. Everywhere he'd touched her, everywhere he'd kissed, washed clean. But not forgotten. Maybe she was supposed to forget...she wasn't sure...but she knew she couldn't. And secretly, she didn't want to. She didn't want to forget how he'd taken something sour and made the illusion that it could be sweet, no matter what he might personally be feeling. The Doctor, always doing, no matter the cost to himself.

She'd find a way to make it up to him, she promised herself.

But not before sleep. _You're valuable to me, Rose,_ he had said. _More valuable than I can say--but that's why I need you rested. For the things I can't do without you...by which I mean most things._

Rose exited her shower smiling softly to herself, rubbed her hair briskly with her towel, and dried her body off. She slipped a light chemise on over her head, not bothering with knickers, and fell gratefully into her own soft bed. As she drifted off, she found herself hoping that the Doctor might find some rest tonight as well.

***

Rose woke five or six hours later. According to the TARDIS' artificial day cycle, it was still night. She lay there for a while trying to fall back asleep, but it was pointless. All she could do was worry about the Doctor.

She rolled out of her bed and pulled on a thick dressing gown; it was a bit chilly. Sometimes the TARDIS forgot that her inhabitants needed heat. Rose usually didn't mind; it gave her an excuse to have hot chocolate.

She put on her slippers and left her room to look for the Doctor. He wasn't in the console room, or the kitchen, or the media room. That pretty much left the library or his bedroom. She didn't feel quite comfortable looking for him in his room at the moment, so she tried the library.

She pushed the door open and wandered inside. It was very quiet and the lighting was dim, the carpet gleaming in a way that reminded her of a white Christmas. The high, domed ceiling seemed to hold a cloud of silence. She loved the library at night. It was always the perfect place to come when she had insomnia. Occasionally she found the Doctor there, poring over books or scribbling madly in his journal, working on some mathematical problem.

She wandered between the stacks and came out the other side, and there he was.

The Doctor had picked up a huge, comfy papasan on a pleasure planet they had visited. The thing looked ridiculous, but the Doctor had an affinity for silly luxuries, so into the library it had gone, in this tucked-away corner. He was lounging on it now, book in hand. He was in a gray t-shirt and red flannel pyjama bottoms. He looked up as she stepped from the darkness of the stacks. Their eyes met and they both stilled like deer.

Rose felt her chest tighten a bit; it was difficult to breathe normally. His look said everything, and she knew he could see the same in her eyes: acknowledgments, apologies, and reassurances were exchanged.

Wordlessly, he crooked a finger and beckoned her to come closer. She went to him as if on autopilot, as if it was what she'd come for. Maybe she had. He put his book aside and opened his arms to her. She lay back on the papasan with him, tucking her feet up into the massive pillow of it and resting back with her head on his shoulder, his arm curled around behind her. He exhaled a long sigh as she settled against him, his breath making the little flyaway hairs at her hairline tickle her forehead. She closed her eyes, but then was startled to feel his hand brushing through her hair. She brought her right hand over to place it against his chest between his hearts as a sign of assent, her eyes still closed.

The Doctor played with her hair, curling it over his fingers, watching the gold of it slide between his knuckles. Eventually he stopped and let the same hand caress slowly down her arm. He noted a freckle on her skin. He nuzzled his head against hers and felt her melt against him, her tension leaving. His hand traced up and down, up and down.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Rose looked up at him. "For what?" she whispered.

He cupped the side of her face, his fingertips brushing into her hair, and she shivered slightly. 

"For doing what you do. Yesterday you made an awful, traumatic situation bearable. With anyone else, that would have been...but you were so...." Words failed him, but he was looking at her with pure admiration.

They gazed at each other for a while, filling in the blanks. Rose seemed to understand what he was trying to say; she didn't expect him to elaborate. She always gave him that room.

So much so, that he wanted to show her how much he appreciated it by closing the gap. 

He ran his thumb softly over her lips, and she responded by kissing it gently. 

She had showered earlier and he could smell her soap and the light, wonderful smell that was just her, but if he analyzed her carefully he could still smell traces of himself. It was maddening. He wanted to have her again. For real.

 _Don't,_ he told himself. _Not after what just happened._

His brain knew how to be logical, but the rest of him didn't. He leaned in, his nose brushing against her forehead. He shifted a bit on the papasan so that he was more on his side. He stroked her face again and, so so softly, he kissed her.

She responded immediately, encouraging him to open up. They gave in and kissed freely, each of them gasping in between, not just out of a need for oxygen, but out of arousal. The Doctor ran the tip of his tongue just behind her upper teeth. Rose pulled him down and reversed their positions so that she was on top of him. She straddled his hips and moved against him slowly, building up a delirious friction; he wasn't wearing pants under his pyjama bottoms, and he was pretty sure that she wasn't wearing any knickers, and he was harder than he'd ever been, his cock full and aching. He grabbed her waist, biting his lip as he helped her move. Forward and back, forward and back, she kept on in that fluid motion, and if she kept up much longer, her heat rubbing against him.... 

The Doctor pulled on her enough to take her off balance, and she came forward against his eager mouth again. Oh, Rassilon, he was in trouble. The wrong thing had opened a door between them, but now he wasn't going to be able to stay away.

"I want to shag you properly," he whispered heatedly. 

Rose responded with a little groan that couldn't be mistaken for anything but agreement. 

Still kissing her, he reached down and caressed her bottom, running his hand along the crease where it met her thigh, and inward. He pressed the tips of his fingers against her sex, confirming his suspicions about her non-existent kickers. He pressed her down tightly against him and bucked his hips against her, grinding his erection right where he wanted it. 

"Fuck," Rose gasped. 

Using his considerable strength, the Doctor sat up and pulled her forward while easing her upper body back, so that she was sitting with her legs open, hips tilted toward him. He stroked his hands down her thighs, up and down gently several times, still looking to her for permission. She nodded slightly and moved her hips a bit to urge him on. 

He slid his hands all the way down her thighs. Her robe had fallen open, and now he flipped up the edge of her pink chemise to look at her. He ran his index finger between her legs, starting from the top, pressing her clit on his way, sliding between her folds. She was wet, so wet. 

He met her eyes and removed his hand from her in order to suck on his finger. Rose bit her lip and whimpered, her respiration speeding up. The Doctor's hearing was acute, and he thought it was the sexiest sound he'd ever heard. He ran his hand between her legs again and gently slid his index finger into her warmth, pumping it slowly in and out.

Rose moaned and shuddered. "Oh, oh god...."

"You like that?" he whispered tenderly. He was overcome with so many emotions that he didn't know where to begin.

She nodded frantically.

"Okay." He gently added his middle finger and thrust rhythmically, passing over her clit with the pad of his thumb each time he went all the way in.

Rose began to gasp every time he went in, and his breath sped up with hers. 

"You're safe with me," he said quietly. "You're always safe with me."

She smiled. "I know." Her eyes fluttered shut as he twisted his fingers, curled them against the perfect spot in her. He reached with his free hand to cup one of her breasts, then gently tweaked her nipple through the fabric. Another thrust, another curl of the fingers and swipe of the thumb, and her legs closed around his hand as she shook, crying out. The Doctor watched her, rapt, gently working her through her high.

She stilled, catching her breath. She opened her eyes and grabbed the front of his shirt, using it to pull herself up to his lips. His arms went around her, rubbing her back gently as they kissed lovingly. She reached between them and gently grasped his erection through his pyjamas. He moaned as she pulled back and tenderly kissed the side of his mouth. He stripped his shirt off and then rolled over on top of her again. He worked his way out of his pyjama bottoms and then helped her peel off her chemise. They looked at each other in the soft lighting. "You're beautiful," the Doctor said.

"You're gorgeous," Rose murmured, sliding a hand up over his lightly muscled chest. 

He maneuvered himself above her and sat back on his heels, then leaned down to capture one of her pale pink nipples in his mouth. He sucked it delicately, teased it with his teeth, making eye contact with her all the while. She was so delicious and eager. Rose writhed under him and clutched his arms as he worked her into a frenzy, caressing her other breast as he flicked his tongue over her nipple. "Please," Rose begged. "Please...."

He slid up over her chest and cupped her face, stroking the sides with his thumbs, then leaned down and breathed in her ear, "Okay." 

She felt him nudging against her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He nudged her a couple more times, then leaned up on his forearms to look in her eyes as he slid all the way in. They both let out a soft moan at how perfectly he fit her, and then he rocked his hips back and then forward again, harder. 

Rose made a needy sound and clutched at his back. "Yes...."

Out, then in again, harder. She cried out again. The Doctor bit his bottom lip and let go of all his long-reinforced control. "You like me fucking you?" he asked, surprised at his own language and unable to stop himself. Yesterday had been about survival; today was about want, and need.

"Yes," she moaned, rocking her hips up to meet him.

"I've always wanted to do this," he confessed. "I didn't want it... _that_ way...but I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since. About how this felt...." 

He slid into her again, grinding his hips against her. She gasped, breathed open-mouthed against his lips as their eyes met, only inches apart. "Doctor...." she moaned. 

"That's it, Sweetheart," he said, his voice low and encouraging. "You're going to come again for me, aren't you?"

"Yes," she moaned, her head falling back, golden hair tumbling. "Yes, Doctor...."

The Doctor propped himself up on his hands and watched as he entered her, slick and shining; watched how she slid over him as he pulled out again. Oh dear sweet Jesus Muhammad Buddha and or other religious icons, she better come soon before he couldn't help himself. He rubbed the little bundle of nerves between her legs, his fingers slippery with her fluids. 

"We've both wanted this for so long," he said softly. "Let go, Rose, let go with me. I'm going to come, I'm so close...."

At his words, she cried out his name and came again, so hard she saw spots dancing before her eyes.

The Doctor grit his teeth and worked himself in and out of her a few more times, feeling everything tighten. He let go, finally, crying out as he filled her deeply.

She pulled his head against her chest and stroked his hair. They stayed like that, catching their breath.

She was the one to break the silence. "I've wanted you so many times."

"I wanted you too," he murmured. "You've no idea."

"You seemed so unaffected."

"I've a long trench coat. Do you think it was a mistake that I switched to that after my regeneration? I learned my lesson in the first body you knew. Kept thinking you were going to call me out on it."

She giggled, then pulled back to regard him. "Seriously, though, Doctor. Is this what it took to change us?"

His expression softened. "We were always us, Rose."

"But you were miserable without me. I crossed universes for you. Even then, you didn't need this? Didn't want it?"

"I was afraid. I already lost you once, irrevocably, I thought."

She regarded him as if she didn't understand. "Well, exactly, Doctor. All the more reason."

He stroked the side of her face, her hair, his expression forlorn. "I have a long history with losing people. The more you love them, the more it hurts. It's the simplest equation I know. I couldn't stop myself from loving you desperately, and I nearly died when you left."

She ruffled her hair through his fringe, combed her fingers through soothingly. "Well, I don't ever want to go anywhere again. I want to stay right here. Just like this."

He felt a knot form in his throat, felt a dangerous pricking of tears in the corners of his eyes. He bit his lips and said nothing, just lay down and turned with her so they were on their sides with him wrapped tightly around her as if he could keep her safe from all the forces in the universe. This time. Maybe this time he could. 

He breathed in her scent, memorizing the moment out of habit so that he could always keep it. Whenever she talked about staying with him he was instantly reminded of how quickly things could dissolve. It was a horrible parallel for his mind to make, but after so many years he was helpless to it.

"I told you forever," she murmured sweetly, unaware of his thoughts, but seeming to answer them.

"And I wanted it more than anything," he managed to say. "I do want it, more than anything." He pulled back to look at her. "Rose Tyler."

She searched his eyes.

"I love you," he whispered forcefully.

Her eyes watered.

"That's what I was going to say, all that time ago. What I would have said."

She nodded, a tear trembling down from the corner of her eye. He kissed it. "I'm so sorry." He rocked her in his arms. 

"It's okay," she choked. "I knew. That's why it hurt so bad that we were separated."

 _"If I believe in anything, I believe in her."_ He'd said that once. He was reminded of it now. He considered all of the things he'd believed over his past few regenerations. He was a man of change, if nothing else. He reached up and pulled a blanket off the back of the papasan and arranged it on top of them. Her head was resting on his arm, and he stroked her cheek with his thumb while she regarded him with a sleepy eye.

"Rose," he said thoughtfully, after a time. "Marry me."

Her eye opened wide. "What?"

"Be my wife. Tempt the forces of the universe with me. Throw caution to the wind. Let's get hitched, tie the knot, take the plunge, and all manner of things that sound like camping and/or rock climbing activities."

"Wait." She boosted herself up on one arm and grinned down at him. "Are you saying you desperately want to get your face smacked into the next century by my mum?"

"So desperately," he said, pulling her down on top of him with a smile.

She regarded him from her new place against his chest. "Yeah then. I will."

He moved in to kiss her.

"Wait," she said again. "We're not gonna get married on some planet where it's customary to drink slug juice to secure our union, are we?"

He thought it over. "No. We don't have to do that one."

"And we're not going to have to hunt down a Yarak and carve its insides out and sleep there to prove we can survive the toughest challenges in life?"

"Probably not, no. Can't guarantee that though."

"Well." She leaned up over him. "Guess if I'm gonna marry the Doctor, that answer's gotta be good enough for me."

"If Jackie's going to be my mother-in-law, yes."

They kissed deeply to seal the agreement, and the Doctor rolled over with her, pulling the blanket over their heads.

***

FIN 


End file.
